


not running

by fakelight



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: All The Tropes, Arranged Marriage, Assassins, F/M, Me: Oh does she now?, Post-Canon, You Can Probably Figure Out Where This Is Going, ~Suki Dies Young
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakelight/pseuds/fakelight
Summary: They’re still for the space of a breath, and he’s reminded, not for the first time, of when she taught him how to block.
Relationships: Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 40





	1. hear that broken sound

The sun rises early over the village.

Sokka knows it does, because he’s been awake since before it came up. Not that it’s a rarity. He’s woken up before the sun more times than he can count, not counting the days it doesn’t set at all. On the road with Aang, hunting with his father, before the Fire Nation came. Once to prank Katara, which had been totally worth it.

This time, though, it’s for another reason entirely.

He’s nervous.

Today is the day he meets the woman he’s going to marry.

He gives up on sleep as a lost cause, rolls out from under the layer of furs, and stretches, feeling an ache in the leg that he’d broken; a storm is incoming. Sokka prods at the ache until it goes away—it wouldn’t do to limp for his betrothed’s first sight of him. He glances over at the dark blue of the clothes he’s meant to wear later, and instead pulls on what he wore yesterday, checking to make sure the contents of his pockets are safe and sound. Their arrival is hours away yet, and he can only pace so far inside.

Katara is waiting outside his tent.

He gives her a look.

She hands him a piece of jerky, and nods her head toward the horizon. “C’mon.”

Sokka follows wordlessly, enough of a rarity that he sees confused looks on the faces of the few people they pass. 

Katara waits until they’re outside the wall to glance up at him. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” he replies automatically.

She rolls her eyes, and folds her legs under her gracefully, leaning against the wall. She pats the ground next to her.

“Actually, I should probably go and change,” he starts, but freezes at the look she shoots him, and meekly acquiesces, sliding down the wall and extending his legs out in front. He gnaws on the jerky, which has no taste.

“They won’t be here for hours,” Katara says soothingly. “You have time.”

Sokka swallows a lump of jerky. “I know.” He breathes out, scuffs his heel in the snow. Runs his fingers over the stone in his pocket, the faint scratches in its surface, the grain of the ribbon. “What if she doesn’t—”

“Enough.” Katara’s voice is firm. “We’ve been through this too many times. Stop worrying until they get here. Then you can worry.”

“But what if the others—”

“ _Sokka._ ”

He thinks about protesting again, stops, then opens his mouth once more. “But—”

Katara silences him with an outstretched finger, freezing his lips shut. Sokka mutters indignantly, trying to melt the ice with his tongue, then sees the panic in her eyes as she points up. 

Voices.

Someone’s coming. On the other side of the wall.

They both make themselves into tiny balls, even as the morning sun makes their presence more than evident. Sokka wrenches his eyes shut, putting all his stock into the _if I can’t see you, you can’t see me_ theory.

“It could have been me,” a high, unfamiliar voice says.

Someone else scoffs. “You! He’s never given you a second look.”

“He did so. Right after that Suki girl died. He looked _so sad_ , and I told him I could _warm him up_ , if you know what I mean—”

“We _all_ know what you mean.”

“And he was just about to say yes, I know he was, when his _stupid sister_ came and told him he had to marry this ugly Northern girl his grandfather picked out so he could become chief.”

“How do you know she’s ugly?”

“Well there’s no way she’s prettier than me,” the girl sniffs. 

“I don’t know why you’d want to get involved,” another voice says. “The assassin would come for you next. There’s no way this girl lasts until tonight. She’ll die too. And the next one, and the next one . . . ”

The voices fade as they move down the wall, and Sokka frowns, as much as he can with slowly thawing lips. “They’re right,” he mumbles, as he pushes himself up, staring down at Katara. “This was a mistake. The assassin isn’t going to stop.”

“Aang is on the boat,” she reminds him. “Toph and Zuko will be in the crowd. I will be standing _right next to you_. We’ll find the assassin. And everything will go back to normal.”

“For _you_ it will,” he spits. “Not for me.”

He turns on his heel, not waiting for her response. Her role is easy. Watch for the assassin, and take them out. He’s the one who’s suffered through the most—finding out someone is trying to usurp him, all evidence pointing toward the reasoning behind the attacks has been to murder all his potential wives so he can’t ever actually become chief, not to mention finding out marriage is a requirement to ascend to the position, cradling a lifeless Suki as the elements crackled overhead, a quartet of benders beating the assassin back—and now this plan, which even he has to admit is more likely to fail than succeed.

He feels like he did before the eclipse, standing on a precipice and waiting to fall.

Sokka looks down at the jerky in his hand and tosses it to a polar dog.

He needs real meat.

Zuko finds him three quarters of the way through a large bowl of stew, the lividity of his scar incongruous with the blues of Sokka’s borrowed clothes.

“Katara says they’re almost here.”

Sokka grunts.

“She also said you’re not handling this very well.”

Sokka narrows his eyes. “Better than you would,” he huffs.

Zuko thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “That’s fair,” he allows, as he sinks into the chair across from Sokka. “But you said it yourself, it’s the best plan.”

“Actually, it’s not. I’ve been thinking. What if I—hear me out—don’t get married? And don’t become chief? And just let whoever this is accomplish whatever goals they’re trying to achieve.” He waits, eyebrows raised in expectation.

Zuko gives him a look.

Sokka crumples. “Fine.”

“It’s a good plan,” Zuko says, in a voice Sokka supposes is meant to be soothing, but just comes out stilted. “We all agreed.”

“I know.” Sokka’s eyes flick down, then back up. “I just don’t want anyone to have to die. For me.” A pause. “Again.”

“No one’s going to die. Not this time.” 

“You don’t sound very sure about that.”

“Well I am,” Toph announces as she barges her way past the tent flap. “Your security is shit, by the way. It’s like you’re asking for someone to get killed. It’s a good thing you’ve got me as backup.”

“I’m here too,” Zuko says, wearily.

Toph waves a hand in his general direction. “And Lord Hotman, sure.”

Zuko groans.

There’s something about Toph’s bluster that causes Sokka’s nerves to not quite calm—he doesn’t think they’ll ever get there—but relax slightly for the first time since he can remember, and his shoulders begin to come down from where they’ve been living around his ears. He has four of the most powerful benders in the world at his back, plus his boomerang. He touches it just to be sure. It’s still there.

“Tell me, why the South Pole again? Because my feet are freezing, _and_ I can barely see. Snow is a menace.” She kicks her feet up onto the table, almost dislodging Sokka’s stew. Zuko rolls his eyes, but rubs his hands together, sending out a small burst of glowing flame. Toph sighs in relief.

“Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about. Much better than the time you burned me.”

Zuko closes his eyes, a pained expression on his face. “I said I was sorry. Many times.”

Toph’s retort is cut off by Katara slipping into the tent, her face set, her eyes grave. Sokka feels his stomach drop. He stands, all at once, reaching for a hand that isn’t there. He manages to control his wince, and grabs onto the stone in his pocket instead.

“They’re here?”

Katara nods solemnly.

Sokka takes a deep breath, and prepares to stride out of the tent, but before he can move Katara lunges forward, wrapping her arms around him. “No one’s going to die,” she whispers into his shoulder. “We’re going to be okay. We’ll _all_ be okay.”

He clenches his jaw, and nods, feeling the thumps as Toph and Zuko join in the hug, feeling the absences of their two missing members more keenly than ever.

“Okay,” he says, as he shrugs the benders off. “Let’s get me betrothed.”

Sokka feels exposed.

Even with the comforting presence of Katara at his side, standing just outside the wall in case of a hasty retreat. Even knowing that Toph and Zuko stand just behind him, ready to spring into action. Even catching a glimpse of Aang, walking steadily toward him, next to a figure swathed in furs.

It’s too open. They’re too vulnerable out here.

His pulse quickens.

Where will the attack come from? Above? Below? From one of his own people, who he’s trying to become a good leader for?

“ _Breathe_ ,” Katara whispers. 

Sokka tries. It doesn’t work.

Almost too quickly, the small group from the North is upon them, his grandfather leading the way. But it’s Aang who steps forward, and shouts, with an almost heraldic air, “Greetings, Sokka of the Water Tribe!”

Sokka frowns in confusion before he remembers—he has _lines_.

“Fuck me,” he mutters. The girl in the furs shifts slightly.

Katara elbows him.

“Right, um. Greetings, Avatar Aang. We welcome you, and our compatriots of the north. Our seas and lands are yours, and may the water run swift and true.” He gets through it mostly without stumbling, projecting so that the assassin, wherever they may be, can hear.

Aang takes a deep breath. “The Northern Water Tribe has granted me the honor of escorting your betrothed across the treacherous seas.” Somehow the words don’t sound like pompous nonsense when Aang delivers them, Sokka muses, as Aang recounts their journey. Lots of storms, apparently.

“But we stand here now, ready to join two tribes together,” Aang concludes, and gestures to the girl at his side. “May I present—” 

There’s a long pause, as Aang’s eyes widen in panic. Sokka feels Katara tense at his side, and he readies himself for the attack, but nothing comes.

“ _I forgot the name_ ,” Aang hisses. 

“ _What_?” Katniss whispers, trying not to move her mouth.

“ _The name, I forgot it_.”

“ _Just keep going_ ,” Sokka hums under his breath.

“I present, your betrothed!”

He hears Katara huff in exasperation as everything else falls away, and _she_ walks toward him. The furs cover her almost completely. He can barely tell there’s a person under them, except for the flash of dark blue from beneath the hood as her eyes lift to his. 

Sokka takes her gloved hand, and holds it tight. He’s supposed to say something now, but all he can do is stare, breathing shallowly, feeling his heart race.

The silence goes on for far too long.

Katara pokes him. “ _In your eyes_ ,” she prompts.

Sokka swallows. “In your eyes,” he says, quietly at first, then louder with every word, “I see the eyes of my long-lost love. Let our union bring peace and prosperity to our two tribes.” 

He doesn’t wait for an attack, doesn’t wait for her scripted response. Instead, he grips her hand tighter, propelling them forward, and doesn’t breathe until the gates shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late, I know, but in my defense, I'm one of the Netflix newcomers. Fully expected to ship other things and then these two took over my heart. This is mostly finished, so more coming very soon! (Much sooner than you'd expect, knowing me as a writer.)


	2. breathe aloud

They only make it two steps into the tent before Sokka throws himself on top of her. 

Suki stops him with an outstretched arm.

“What in the Earth Kingdom was that about my eyes? Do you _want_ the assassin to know I’m still alive?” she demands, pulling the furs from around her head.

“I know these are angry words you’re saying,” Sokka says, pushing past her block and holding her tight, “but I’m just happy you’re _here_.” He cradles her face in his hands, making sure she’s real, drinking in the sight of her in his tent, standing in front of him, _safe_.

She smiles tenderly, her anger dissipating, reaching her own hand up to touch his cheek gently. “I’m here,” she says, reassuringly. “ _We’re_ here. We made it. The plan worked.”

“So far,” Katara says, entering behind them.

Sokka makes a noise of outrage. “Excuse me! We’re having a much needed reunion here.”

“Katara’s right,” Zuko says as he follows her in, Aang and Toph bringing up the rear. “I didn’t see anything suspicious.”

“I didn’t see anything at all,” Toph chimes in.

“We don’t know that they’ve given up,” Zuko continues, barely pausing for a quick eye roll. “They could strike at any time.”

“If they even _want_ to strike. Maybe it’s a Northern Water Tribe member who wants an alliance, and now they’re happy. That’s why we put in the thing about Yue, remember?” 

“Oh,” Suki says softly, a pink tinge to her cheeks.

“You’re one to talk, Aang, about _remembering_.” Katara’s eyes flash dangerously. “ _I forgot the name_?!”

“I’m sorry!” he cries. “What did we decide we’re calling Suki anyway?”

There’s a long silence as the six of them ponder over the question. Sokka blinks.

“Shit,” says Toph.

“It doesn’t matter. Hopefully this won’t last long enough for any of us to have to remember. Either they’ll try to kill me at the ceremony, or while I’m sleeping tonight, or they’ve achieved their goal and I can get back to—”

“Living your life as a member of the Northern Water Tribe? Because, sorry to tell you this, but you don’t look the part,” Zuko points out.

“Hey,” Aang says, affronted. “I tried to energy bend her eyes lighter. And we dyed her hair!”

“Badly.”

Sokka steps in between the pair, cutting off any further argument. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now can I _please_ kiss my girlfriend for the first time since she died? _Alone_?”

The group exits, making various grumbling noises, Katara calling a “See you at dinner! Glad you’re not dead!” through the closing tent flap.

Sokka turns to Suki, intent on following through on his words, but something about the sight of her, her face swallowed in furs and looking up at him hopefully causes something to clench inside, and instead pulls her close slowly, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’m glad too.”

“Glad about what?” Suki asks, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“That you’re not dead.”

Suki scrunches her mouth up, a frown and a smile all at the same time. “Sokka, I’m fine—”

“It was just like . . . ” His voice breaks. “You weren’t moving, and you were so _pale_ , and I thought . . . if Katara wasn’t there . . . ” He can’t go on, can’t speak the words out loud, for fear that they could still come true.

“Hey.” Suki makes a shushing noise, and pulls him over to the bed, pressing gently on his shoulders to get him to sit. He tugs her close once more, bracketing her with his knees, resting his head against her chest, feels the reassuring rise and fall of her breathing. She pulls out the tie, runs her fingers through his hair. “This is getting long,” she murmurs.

“You haven’t seen me in ages, and that’s all you can think about? My hair?”

“No,” she says, smiling down at him, fondly, sadly. “I just . . . I don’t want to keep thinking about it. I don’t want _you_ to keep thinking about it. We’re warriors. This is what we signed up for.”

“But this didn’t happen because you’re a warrior. They hurt you—tried to _kill_ you—because of _me_.”

Suki shrugs off her furs and comes to sit on the bed, tucking her feet under herself, angled toward him. She pulls his hand into hers, where he can feel the calluses from her fans on her palms. “We don’t know that. It could be any number of reasons. That’s why we’re doing this, remember? To find out why.”

“I bet you it is me,” he grumbles, looking away. Suki squeezes his hand.

“Then we’ll face it the way we always have—together. Remember what you said? _We watch each other’s backs_. We took on the entire Fire Nation army, I think we can handle one assassin. Especially since we know they’re coming this time.” She gives him a small, tremulous smile.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

She laughs, and he kisses her then, full of hope and certainty, loss and longing. He kisses her like he never wants to let her go. He places her hand over his heart and holds it there, tight, feeling her smile against his lips.

“Of course,” Suki says, when they finally part, “there is the slight problem that everyone thinks you’re marrying someone from the North. And Zuko’s right. No one’s going to believe I’m actually Water Tribe.”

“They’ll understand,” he reassures her. “When they find out why we did it, what you’ve been through—”

“And what if they don’t? I know how _I_ feel about it, how Kyoshi feels about it, but what about your people? It’s more than a marriage, it’s an alliance.”

“Then I step down,” he says simply. 

She looks crestfallen. “Sokka, that’s not what I . . . I don’t want you to give up everything you’ve been working for. Not for . . . ”

He feels the weight of the stone in his pocket as he lifts his hand once more, brushing her hair back, and comes to a decision. He stands, all in one movement, because he feels like this is something he should be standing for—facing the future, feet set, ready. Suki watches him, confusion furrowing her brow.

“When I thought I was going to lose you, I told myself the spirits couldn’t take you, because I hadn’t told you any of this yet,” Sokka says, his hand clenched around the necklace. “I mean, you _knew_ , and _I_ knew, but I hadn’t said the words. Not out loud. And then we came up with this plan, and you _agreed_ to it, but it wasn’t the same. And you weren’t _you_ , and we had to do all these _traditions_ that I didn’t even know how we’d fit into them, but then I thought—what if we did fit?”

Suki blinks at him, completely lost.

“They gave me some _monstrosity_ , said that it didn’t matter what it looked like. But I wanted it to be _real_. So I went out, and I found the right stone. And I carved it—actually, I painted it first, you should see it, it’s really good. And then once it was perfect, I found the right ribbon—well, Katara helped with that—but the point is, it’s _yours_. And I know it’s only happening because, well, someone’s trying to kill you because of me and the only plan we could come up with is faking your death and having you pretend to be someone you’re not so we can draw them out into the open, but if it’s going to happen, I still wanted it to be _us_.”

“Sokka, wh—”

He thrusts the necklace at her, quickly because of his nerves, quickly enough that he worries she might block it out of pure reflex. 

Instead, she’s frozen. 

“Sokka . . . ”

“Ever since I met you, you’ve opened my eyes. You _saved_ me. I can’t live in a world without you. And I don’t care where we are, or _who_ we are, as long as we’re together. I was waiting for the right moment, but I realized that _every_ moment is the right moment, because it’s _you_.” Sokka is amazed that he’s gotten it all out, and then immediately begins to trip over his words. “So, uh. Yeah. Do you wanna . . . well, you know.”

Suki has that look on her face again, the one he’s seen a million times. It’s somehow exasperated and adoring and hopeful and worried and uncertain and resolved all at the same time. 

But beneath it all, there’s love.

She runs her fingers over the stone, slotting her thumbnail into one of the ridges. “You saved me too, you know,” she says, with a quiet laugh.

Sokka finds himself grinning, even as he tells her, “That’s not an answer.”

“I guess it isn’t.” She scrunches her mouth up, pretending to think about it as she stands, taking a step toward him. Her face grows serious as she comes closer, and she pauses, mid-stride. “But you _do_ know, don’t you? After everything. I’m here,” she touches her heart, and then takes another step, sliding her hand into his, “because of you. I’m here _with_ you.”

He does know. He nods, then raises an eyebrow. “Still waiting on that answer.”

She glances toward the tent flap, where outside, the weight of their responsibilities lie—to themselves, to their family, to their people. But that’s outside. Here, in the tent, it’s just them. He rests his hand on her cheek, like he has so many times before. She leans into it, briefly, her eyes closed, a sharp inhale. 

Her eyes open. “Are you sure?” she asks, finally.

Sokka takes one final step, pulling her close. “Yes. Are you?”

Suki smiles then, as bright as the sun, and his heart clenches at the sight. She leans in closer still, as close as she can, whispering a “Yes,” against his lips, as he closes the distance and kisses her once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to post this as a one-shot but at the same time the three parts are so different it made more sense to break it up? So I guess this is my way of saying, next time is the action.


	3. too far to be near

They wrap the necklace around her wrist, tucked up high inside her furs. “They still have the monstrosity for me to give you at the ceremony,” Sokka tells her. “It’s really ugly. Not like this one.”

“Yes,” Suki says seriously. “This one is perfect.”

He knows it is. He worked on it for a long time.

There’s a table set exclusively for them toward the front of the hall, which Sokka immediately drags two more chairs over to so Katara and Aang can join them.

“Bored of me already?” Suki teases.

“They’re blocking everyone from seeing you,” he points out. “Now you can take your furs down.” 

The hall is thrumming with life, the whole village in one place for the first time since he can remember. With the visitors from the north, it’s full to bursting. Sokka piles his plate high, reasoning that if an attack comes, it’ll come later, during the ceremony. Katara is looking around, craning her neck to see over the crowds. “Where’s Zuko?” she whispers, even though the buzzing of the hall makes it impossible to be overheard. Sokka tilts his head toward the next table, where Zuko is making awkward conversation with what appears to be the group of girls from earlier. Toph is nowhere to be seen. 

“She’s checking on Appa,” Aang informs them. “Oh, there she is.” 

Toph is striding toward them, an urgent expression on her face. 

Suki stiffens next to him, and he feels a presence at his left elbow. Sokka looks up into the eyes of a pale, nondescript boy. He looks like he comes from no nation and all nations all the same time, hair as black as night, ancient eyes in a youthful face. 

Aang continues eating, oblivious.

“Hello,” the boy says in a voice which on the surface is pleasant, but with nothing underneath.

Sokka reaches out blindly with his right hand, grasping onto Suki’s wrist, feeling the grain of the ribbon under his fingers. He chances a look out of the corner of his eye, but she’s turned away from him, from the boy. She’s trembling, but he can’t tell if it’s from fear or anticipation—if she’s ready to strike. He squeezes her wrist, a cautionary warning, and wishes he hadn’t told her to take her furs down, her face exposed for all to see.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” the boy says politely. 

“Oh?” Sokka wills his voice calm. “About what?” He kicks Katara under the table, her face turning from where she’d been watching Toph approach. She inhales sharply, and nudges Aang.

“He wanted her face.”

The table is silent. The crowd around them remains raucous, oblivious, except for Zuko, who has noticed their stillness. He edges toward them, joining Toph, flanking their table.

“She wasn’t supposed to die,” the boy continues.

“Koh,” Aang states, his voice blank.

The boy inclines his head toward Aang. “He sends his regards.”

“Why are you _here_ , then?” Katara demands. “You said she wasn’t supposed to die, but she _did_. Are you here to rub it in?”

Suki shifts, turning enough that her back is the only thing visible. Toph steps forward, to block her even further.

“My master erred in estimating how fragile she would be. I am here to make amends.”

Suki’s wrist slips from his grip. Sokka barely notices, because somehow he’s on his feet, staring down at the boy, barely keeping his anger in check. “ _Fragile_?” he sputters.

“Sokka.” Aang’s voice slices like a knife. “Sit down.”

A hand tugs at his sleeve. Sokka doesn’t move. 

“Sokka. Listen to Aang.”

He barely keeps his reaction in check, but does as Toph requests. She releases his sleeve as she settles further into the seat beside him. Sokka risks a glance to his right, to where Zuko is shielding Suki from view as they move slowly toward the doors. He takes a deep breath.

“Fine. Make your apology,” he spits.

The boy places something on the table—narrow, wrapped in fabric, which makes a familiar clunk as it lands. “He would have let you keep her, if she had only given him what he asked. Faces are mutable things. Would you have loved her in the years to come, even without our actions? Try to look at it as a favor.”

Aang watches. Toph listens. Sokka is frozen, fury coursing through his veins. He doesn’t answer. 

He knows what’s on the table. 

What he stole.

“You did what you came here to do,” Katara bites out. “Now I think it’s time for you to leave.”

The boy regards them impassively. There’s a moment of stillness that seems to extend throughout the entire hall, the crowd seemingly going silent as Sokka holds his breath.

The boy lowers his head in a bow, eyes fluttering closed. 

The tension breaks. 

Sokka swallows as the boy raises his head, turns to leave—

—and stops.

It happens almost too quickly—his eyes widening, focused on a pair of people slipping through the open door—”Fuck,” says Toph—the boy darting across the room as Sokka jumps to his feet.

The boy saw her. He knows.

“No,” he says out loud, because it can’t happen again—he won’t let it happen again. With one hand, he slides his sword from its sheath hidden on the underside of the table, and with the other, he snatches Suki’s fans from where the boy had placed them.

And then he’s sprinting after them, only a few breaths behind.

They’re headed for the water.

Sokka can hear his heart pounding in his ears, running full out, a lifetime on the snow giving him an advantage over the boy who slips every few strides. He can see Zuko and Suki, small figures in the darkness, illuminated by the bursts of flame that Zuko sends shooting behind him, flames the boy dodges with an almost uncanny ability.

He pulls his boomerang from his back, throwing it with all his strength, hoping the boy’s focus on Zuko will distract him from any attacks from the rear.

It misses.

Katara doesn’t.

The boy goes sprawling, a javelin of ice knocking him to the ground, rolling over and over until he slides to a stop.

Sokka catches the boomerang as it circles back, a grim smile on his face, slowing his stride as the six of them reach the boy’s prone body at the same time. He takes a quick moment to make sure she’s unhurt, then hands Suki her fans, and for the first time since this all started, feels safer.

Aang freezes the boy in place, leaving only his eyes and nose uncovered.

“Who is he?” Suki asks, breathing hard. “Are there others?”

“He works with Koh,” Aang says. “The Face Stealer.”

Suki is horrified. “The wha—”

She’s cut off by a cracking from the ice, as a blade cuts through and the boy springs to his feet. The blade that’s haunted Sokka’s nightmares, jet black, changing every moment—from katana to whip to jian—cutting through their defenses, through water, through earth. He wishes he still had his space sword as the boy whirls around, chopping at the fire like it’s made of something solid. Toph is uncharacteristically flustered next to him, forcing the earth through the packed snow that Zuko is attempting to melt, and Sokka blocks a blow aimed at her head, wincing as the sword changes once more, cutting him along his arm. Katara and Aang attempt to slow the boy down, one covering him with sheets of water that the other immediately freezes, but the blade slices through the ice before it can even take hold.

Sokka flattens himself to the ground as the whip circles over his head, but he can see two people—he can’t tell who through the snow in his eyes—being thrown to the side as it makes contact, and feels despair start to take hold. They’re being beaten back, just like last time. He watches as the boy lunges toward where Toph stands on a patch of bare earth, a stabbing motion stymied only by the wall of flame Zuko throws up at the last moment.

Katara groans on the ground next to him. “He’s faster. I don’t know how, but he is.”

“We have to . . . ” Sokka pants, but his racing brain can’t come up with any of the many plans they’d made to fight him again. “Katara . . . ”

The boy has gone still, his head cocked to the side, like he’s waiting for something. Sokka struggles to his feet, sword in hand, about to surge forward for his own attack—when someone hurtles past him and over the flames.

Suki.

The boy smiles then, an empty grin. He issues some kind of challenge to which Suki responds, a cold certainty on her face, but Sokka can’t make it out over the roar of the fire. They’re still for a moment, and then the boy strikes, the whip snaking out toward Suki, Sokka’s warning cry catching in his throat.

She takes one step. One careful step to the side, watching as the whip slides harmlessly past where her neck would have been. 

The boy frowns.

And then they both explode into action, Suki dodging and whirling, fans unfurled, their sharp edges landing shallow cuts on the boy, who attacks with an as yet unseen fury. Sokka watches for an opening where he can lend some kind of assistance, but the fight is too quick. Blows are traded, attacks are blocked. It goes on like some kind of warped dance, the pair of them giving and taking in equal measure, before Suki bends at the waist, avoiding a sword thrust, then turns her back on the boy, taking three large steps and yelling, “Toph, now!”

A large spike of earth rises under Suki’s feet, launching her into the air. She turns, hovering gracefully for the length of a breath, then lands on the other side of the boy, one fan twisting around the sword to disarm him as she extends the other to rest against his throat. 

Sokka wants to cheer, to run toward her and gather her in his arms, but does the sensible thing instead and picks up the sword first, an alien sensation running up his arm as he grasps the hilt. He takes a second to make sure he’s not possessed, or anything.

And _then_ he runs toward her.

She’s breathing hard and bleeding from a cut along her cheek, but she’s _alive_ and whole and standing, with the boy at her mercy. His bloodless face is even paler than the snow, almost glowing in the moonlight. 

“We have to kill him,” Zuko says as he struggles to his feet, even as Aang almost immediately insists, “No, we don’t.”

“I think that’s _my_ decision,” Suki states, her arm level, pressing gently with her fan against the boy’s skin. A line appears, blood welling up as the boy stares blankly. There’s a moment thick with tension, before she snaps the fan shut, shaking her head. “Someone secure this monster, I can’t look at him any more.”

She turns and walks away as a column of ice surrounds the boy, followed by a column of earth. 

And then another column of ice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me, Suki's fans are basically the shukusen from Tamora Pierce's _Lady Knight_ series, and they're portrayed as such here. The sword is basically a razor from Pierce Brown's _Red Rising_ series, just magic. Many apologies that this ended up being longer than expected, but they deserve a moment to breathe.


	4. i feel you had fear

He finds her standing along the edge of the ice, her hair blowing in the wind. She tenses as he approaches, but allows him to come up behind her, standing close enough that she could throw herself into his arms if she wanted.

She doesn’t.

They stand in silence. Suki fidgets with a fan, unfurling, refurling. 

“It was me all along,” she says, finally. 

“We didn’t know—”

“After everything, it was me. He told me, before he tried—well, I guess, after all that, he wasn’t actually trying to kill me.” She lets out a sardonic laugh. “He’s not very good at his job. Although I guess the first time, he actually didn’t . . . ”

Sokka takes a step forward. Suki doesn’t stop him. “We won. He’s trapped, I have this,” he tells her as he holds up the sword. 

She doesn’t look back at him, but instead shakes her head slowly. “We _can’t_ win.” She takes a deep breath. “I have to go—”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“—I’m a danger to _you_ , to _everyone_ around me! Look what happened! Koh isn’t going to stop, not when he knows I’m alive—”

“He _doesn’t_ know you’re alive,” Sokka tells her, taking another step closer, close enough that he can hear her huffed out breath. “The only people who do are out here on the ice.”

She turns then, blinking away unshed tears. He steps forward, pulling her fan-less hand into his. “It’s just us. And . . . _him_.”

Suki glances back to where the boy is trapped, four benders standing at the corners. She breathes out slowly, then looks up, into Sokka’s eyes. “Just us,” she repeats, then looks back again, her face turning somber. “And him.”

They walk back, slowly, hand in hand. 

The boy is covered save for his eyes, which dart from size to side, three layers keeping him immobile, Zuko watching him like a hawk as the other three wait, expectantly.

Sokka wonders, as they come together, how many group hugs they’ve had over the years. Hundreds, by now. He’s glad they won’t be stopping anytime soon.

Suki slips from their huddle and walks steadily toward Zuko, throwing her arms around him and holding on tight. Katara takes over watching the boy as Zuko returns her embrace. 

“Thank you,” Suki whispers, barely audible over the wind. “For getting me out of there.”

“Think of it as payback for all the years you spent guarding me.”

They exchange identical smiles, then turn toward the problem at hand.

Sokka watches the boy cooly as Suki steps forward, her relaxed demeanor belied by the unfurled fan at her side. “So. Give us one good reason that we should let you off the ice.”

The boy doesn’t respond.

“Can someone uncover his mouth?” Sokka demands.

The earth and ice melt away, just far enough.

“What’s going on?!” the boy gasps. His voice is different—higher. Frightened. “Where am I, who are you people?” His mouth drops. “Is that the _Fire Lord_?”

Suki looks back out of the corner of her eye, her brow furrowed. Sokka glances around, but everyone appears to be as confused as he is.

Katara steps forward. “This isn’t funny.”

“Don’t you remember five minutes ago? When you were trying to kill us?”

The boy gapes as he registers who’s speaking. “Kill . . . _you_? But . . . you’re the _Avatar_! Why would I try to kill you?”

Aang frowns. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks, a little too patiently for Sokka’s taste.

“I . . . I don’t—”

“What’s your name?”

The boy looks lost. “I don’t know.”

“He’s lying.” Zuko’s voice cracks like a whip. “He knows Aang, who _I_ am, but he conveniently forgets the whole trying to kill us thing?”

“Actually, he’s not,” Toph interjects. “It’s fuzzy, but he’s telling the truth.”

“No.” Sokka steps forward, fire running through his veins. “No, you don’t get to _pretend_ you don’t know what happened, what you put us through.” He stalks up to just behind Suki, staring knives into the boy’s eyes. “You _know_.” He brandishes the sword, the boy flinching away. “See?! He can’t even look at it.”

Suki places a hand gently but firmly on his wrist, pushing the sword down, pushing him back. Sokka feels a flash of anger, but he pushes that down as well. “You just stuck a sword in his face, of course he’s going to look away,” she mutters, low enough that the boy can’t hear. “I’m going to try something.” She raises her voice. “Can we let him go?”

Which is maybe the worst idea Sokka has ever heard. Toph and Katara too, judging by their instant noises of protest. Suki clearly has the upper hand, however, because the noises are quelled with a mere cough, and the ice recedes completely.

The earth comes down to waist level.

Toph shrugs when Suki coughs again. “That’s far enough.”

Suki glances back, sees Toph’s tense posture, and nods. “It is.” She snaps one fan closed, right in front of the boy’s face, and points it at him. “You recognize the Fire Lord. And the Avatar, yes?”

The boy nods, slowly, his eyes flicking around.

She takes a deep breath. “Who am I?”

He blinks once, twice, then shakes his head. “You’re dressed like Water Tribe, but you don’t look it—”

Zuko mutters, “Told you.”

“—so you must be . . . some kind of spy?”

Suki frowns, as Sokka steps forward next to her. “Do you know who I am?” 

The boy squints, then shakes his head dismissively. “No idea.”

Sokka can’t help but make an offended noise. “Oh, but you know _those two_ ,” he says, accusingly. 

“They are pretty famous,” Toph points out.

“We’re _all_ famous! We ended the war!!” 

“But somehow, they always seem to forget me,” Suki mutters under her breath to Sokka, who feels another flash of anger on her behalf, before she reconsiders. “That might be a good thing here,” she says out of the side of her mouth, and turns to face the boy again. “What _do_ you remember? What year is it? How long has the war been over? What’s the last thing you remember?” The boy rattles off the date and how long they’ve been at peace immediately, then pauses before answering the last question, hesitantly. “I was . . . in a cave. My father had lost his job and said it was time I started supporting myself, and there was a storm and I was trying to find someplace to hide . . . and then,” he shrugs, as much as he can with his hands still trapped. “I was here.”

Sokka, against all of his will, finds himself feeling sorry for the boy.

Suki nods, once. “I believe him,” she says plainly as the group clusters together, far enough away that he can’t overhear. “He’s . . . different. He’s like an actual person, not just some blank slate that can talk.”

“But _why_? What changed?” Aang muses.

Sokka remembers the sword. He pulls it out, and starts to say, “There’s this,” but the words stick in his mouth. 

The sword arcs up, his hand betraying him as he raises it high. He tries to shout a warning, but the only thing that comes out is a cold, high laugh. The sword comes down as Katara gasps.

The last thing he sees is Suki’s arm coming up to block as fire blasts toward him, but it’s too late.

And then everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for this taking so long, but the T key on my laptop broke, and you want to guess what's the second most used letter in the English language? It couldn't have been the Z key, of course not, but I figured I'd split the last guy into two to make up for the wait. One chapter to go!


	5. tell me to stay

Sokka comes to with a jolt.

He can’t move his arms or his legs, and looks down to find himself encased in earth from the chest down, a twin to the boy on his left. For the briefest of moments he wonders why, before it all comes rushing back, and he shouts Suki’s name, the way he’d meant to before the sword took over.

And then she’s in front of him, clutching at his arms. “I’m here, I’m okay.”

He lets out a heavy, staggering sigh of relief, and then looks up into the familiar blue of her eyes, babbling out an apology. “I tried to stop it, it was—”

“The sword, we know,” Sokka hears from somewhere to his right. He looks over to find Zuko next to him, entombed in an identical column of earth, a look of disgust on his face. “It got me too.”

“The sword!” Sokka swivels his head foolishly to where he last saw it, to find it, to tell them to get rid of it, but Suki stops him with an outstretched hand. 

“It’s gone. Aang melted it down after Katara took a swing at me,” she explains.

“It got Kata—”

Katara leans forward from her own earth column so she can see him around Zuko. “Yep.”

Sokka shakes his head. “Why didn’t you stop after me?” he mutters, defeated.

“We had to make sure. You and Zuko,” Toph shrugs, “not the strongest of minds—”

“Hey!” growls Zuko with a glare.

“—and giving it to Aang was just asking for trouble. So we tried the second best thing, after me—”

“Hey . . . ” Katara says, unsure if she should be offended or not.

“—and Katara went all stabby stab after about two minutes. So while I made my _fourth_ earth prison, Aang Avatar-ed up and melted it down. He’s disposing of it now. I _thought_ about metalbending it into something cool, but imagine someone accidentally touching my new winged boar and immediately trying to kill Suki? Not worth the headache.”

“Thanks . . . ” says Suki, with the same inflection as Katara.

“But you’re okay?” Sokka asks quietly, struggling against the earth surrounding him, wanting more than anything to take her in his arms, make certain that she hasn’t suffered due to him—them. “I didn’t . . . you’re not hurt?”

Suki lifts her arm to show him that she’s unscathed, then tugs her furs up slightly, giving him a small, private smile. “Something protected me.” He sees a small, flat stone hanging from a scrap of ribbon, wound twice around her forearm.

The necklace.

“Not even a scratch,” she tells him quietly, and looks at him sideways. “You of all people should know that I can block _anything_.”

Sokka feels a myriad of emotions all at once—relief, pride, love, awe. He keeps his eyes on Suki as he says, surprised at how even his voice is, “Toph, I need you to let me go.”

“Are we sure that’s a good idea?”

Zuko grimaces. “Listen to him, Toph. If you could see the look on his face . . . ”

“It’s times like this I’m grateful I can’t,” she replies, flinging her clenched fist open as the dirt around Sokka crumbles and he propels himself forward, enveloping Suki in his arms. 

He holds her like she’s fragile even as he knows she’s made of steel, and is surprised to find tears come to his eyes as he breathes out his relief. “I checked. I really did. I picked it up and I was like, _am I possessed_? And I didn’t think I was—”

“I know.”

“—and then out of nowhere—”

“It’s not your fault.” Her eyes flick significantly to her forearm once more. “If anything, you _saved_ me.”

“You saved yourself,” he tells her seriously.

Suki rolls her eyes fondly, and Sokka takes advantage of her momentary distraction to kiss her soundly, holding her tight and reveling in the feel of her in his arms—safe, whole, _alive_ —a feeling he’s had too often as of late. He looks forward to a day when the relief of being alive is a rare occurrence for them.

He doesn’t know how long it is they stand there, wrapped up in each other, but it’s long enough that Zuko and Katara start making grumbling noises from their earth prisons, and Suki disentangles herself to give Toph a nod. “It’s okay. You can let them go.”

“ _All_ of them?” Toph asks, jerking her head toward the boy, who is watching them all with guarded curiosity. 

Suki gives him a long measured look.

Then nods.

It’s almost light by the time Sokka finds her outside the gate. Sitting on the snow, furs swapped out for more familiar garments that had been lying around his tent from her last visit, leaning up against the wall and staring up at the moon, an echo of his previous self. Of her previous self, maybe.

Was it really only just this morning he’d been in the same position, nerves jangling, watching, waiting?

Her voice breaks through his thoughts.

“Did they decide?”

Sokka nods, extending his hand down to her, ready to pull her up.

She tugs him down instead, landing in a sprawl next to her, pressed up against her side.

“And?”

He doesn’t answer right away. “You should have been there.”

“It felt wrong,” Suki says with a small shrug. “He didn’t know what he was doing. Any opinion I would have given would have been selfish.”

“He came after _you_. He tried to _kill_ you.”

“He didn’t. _He_ didn’t, that is. I can’t blame him because some ancient monster took him over. Don’t forget what happened to you.”

“I said I was sorry,” Sokka reminds her, but there’s no heat behind it. She knows.

She gives him a small smile, places her hand on his cheek tenderly, then sighs, shifting so that she can lay her head on his shoulder. “Just tell me,” she says, her voice muffled.

“They’re taking him back to the North when they go. They think he might be from there. He’ll get a new name, a new life. But he’ll be watched. Always.”

He can feel Suki’s nod against his shoulder. The small breath in she takes. Sokka waits, for the question that he knows is coming.

Her voice is steady as she asks it. “And what about me?”

“Whatever you want,” Sokka answers, quickly. Too quickly. Her head lifts from his shoulder, her eyebrows knitting together as he goes on, “It doesn’t matter what they say. I’m supposed to be chief here eventually—”

“Sokka.”

He glances at her, but she isn’t angry, not like he thought she’d be, but is instead watching him patiently as he rants. He exhales, calming himself. “They would . . . uh. Prefer it. If you—”

“Stayed dead?” Suki gives him a wry smile. “I get it. No one wants another assassin blowing up their village once word gets out I’m still alive.”

“It’s not _fair_ ,” Sokka protests, rising to his knees and turning to face her. “We don’t even know that will happen. After everything you’ve done, for the _world_ , to just . . . end like _that_.”

“I’m right here,” she tells him. “And if it keeps everyone safe . . . ”

“I don’t care about _everyone_.”

Suki gives him a look. “Yes, you do.” Sokka rolls his eyes, even as he knows she’s right, and she sighs. “If it keeps _you_ safe—”

“I don’t care about _me_ , I care about—”

“Well I care about you.” Suki stops him mid-sentence, grabbing onto his hand and holding on tight. “And unfortunately for you, I’m the one who gets to decide here. It’s _my_ life. Or,” she tilts her head, looking to the side, “it was.” 

“It still is,” he reassures her, squeezing her hand in his.

Suki nods, then frowns. “I don’t have to still pretend to be,” she makes a little shrugging gesture, nodding her head in a northern direction, “ _her_ , though, right? I can . . . ”

“You can be whoever you want to be. They’re hammering out the treaty now, but I told them I don’t want to be any part of it. And neither should you.”

Sokka doesn’t miss the little sigh of relief that escapes her, before her cheeks flush. “It’s not . . . I would have . . . ” She sighs again. “It’s just a lot to live up to, y’know?”

He nods, solemnly. “We don’t even have to stay here, if you don’t want to. We can go anywhere—I’m sure Zuko would put you up for as long as you wanted, and he certainly can’t turn me away if I show up too.” He pauses, then decides to broach the subject. “Or we could go to the Earth Kingdom . . . maybe the Kyoshi Warriors are looking for new recruits—”

“No,” Suki states with finality. “I won’t risk it. As much as I want to, I can’t put them in danger.” She twists her mouth, and settles next to him, legs tucked up underneath her, and looks thoughtful. “I think . . . I think I _want_ to stay here.”

Sokka realizes he’s been holding his breath, for no reason. “Really?”

She shrugs a little, pursing her lips. “I think so. It’s strange, it’s almost freeing being dead. I feel like I can do whatever I want.”

“And what is it that you want?”

She laughs, low and soft. “I don’t know.” She looks sideways, and gives him a half smile. “You.” 

“You’ve got me.”

“Well, then.” Suki smiles up at him, leaning back against the wall once more. Sokka can see the shift in the sky, the full moon setting for the next few days, the approaching sun snaking its first rays over the horizon. They sit in silence, watching the world change around them. 

When Suki does finally speak, it’s his name she says, a catch in her breath. “Sokka?”

He breathes in, waiting.

She sounds hesitant, but there’s something underneath it, something resolute. “Is it . . . that is, it’s only—when I was here before . . . is it only the men that wear warpai—”

“No,” Sokka says firmly, and he rises once more, turning to face her and pulling her hand into both of his. “Not men. _Warriors_.”

A smile breaks over Suki’s face, as bright as the dawn. She nods, once. “Warriors,” she repeats, and Sokka can hear the traces of relief in her voice. 

He doesn’t let go of her hand.

The sun has well and truly risen, and behind the wall he can hear the noises of the village waking up. Sokka stands, and pulls Suki to her feet. “We should tell everyone,” he says, taking a step forward through the gate, looking to see if any of their group are still awake, or if they’ve all passed out on the closest available bed. “What you’ve decided.”

“I agree,” he hears from behind him.

It takes him a moment to notice there’s something different when he glances back. He still isn’t used to the almost physical feeling of relief that hits him every time he sees her standing in front of him, safe, whole, _alive_. Her face is drawn and there are dark circles under her eyes, and he couldn’t love her more—and that’s when it hits him.

She reaches up, running her fingers over the stone nestled in the hollow of her throat.

“You’re wearing it,” he says, unable to move, the sight leaving him thunderstruck.

Suki smiles and steps forward, placing a gentle kiss on his frozen lips. “I didn’t want to go into my new life hiding anything,” she tells him.

They’re still for the space of a breath, and he’s reminded, not for the first time, of when she taught him how to block. 

And then he moves all at once.

Gathering her up, holding her close and kissing her again, trying to put all of his feelings into the kiss—heartbreak at her loss, joy at the hope for their future, but more than anything, love. She holds onto him, just as tight, resting her forehead against his, and Sokka wonders if after this he’ll ever know where she stops and he begins.

“I figure I’m allowed to keep one thing from my old life,” Suki says as she pulls away, eyes sparkling.

“What about your fans?” Sokka asks, with a frown.

Suki blinks. “Two things.”

He laughs, and laces his fingers through hers. “Two things.” 

Suki starts forward, but Sokka keeps his feet planted, tugging her to a stop. She turns back, a question on her face. He breathes out once, and asks her one last time, “Are you sure?”

“No,” she says, simply, but she’s smiling. “But we’ll figure it out. We’ll watch each other’s backs. We always do.”

She tugs on his hand again, and Sokka steps forward, following as she steps into a life they will make together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [Not Running](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOaYN2V8RfI) by The Beths.


End file.
